


A Prideful Pact

by JeanRainier



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Occult, Oral Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanRainier/pseuds/JeanRainier
Summary: A young woman too clever for her own good turns to a grimoire as a joke out of boredom. When the ritual works, she's at a loss. The demon demands payment, regardless. Uneducated on the true nature of what she's stumbled into, the demon convinces her to pay in the richest of currencies - flesh.
Kudos: 44





	A Prideful Pact

The fire in the background crackles soft.  The library is empty. Save for the bookcases here and there rendered immobile by their weight, she's moved everything aside. The table pressed against the far wall has the remnants of everything she needed.

  
  


Pure salt. Black candles. A silver letter opener, sharpened.

It's vital to note going into it all, she has no belief it will really work.

This is all a joke. A game. Something to fill her weekend in passing.

She's well-read. Very much so. To a point that books have started to grow stale. So when one, old, is dug out of the back of an antique shop, how can she resist? Grimoires are silly. Witchcraft is impossible. She doesn't delve into it out of faith or need. She does it to prove it's nonsense, to have something to do on the nights when the massive house is empty and quiet.

Now is one such time. Her grandfather is away, at a party.  There are no parents here to speak of. The house staff is absent, retired and sent to their homes for the night. She wants the privacy. Makes it feel all the more appropriate. The way people play classical music for long baths or light candles for mood- she's made sure her home is empty and silent for the night.

She hefts the old grimoire up and then to the floor.

Draws the salt circle. Lights the candles. Repeats the verses in time, carefully. Rattling off the fluid latin thrice before blowing each candle out in turn.

Things are silent. Still. She waits a minute before smirking.

Of course it wouldn't work. She knew it wouldn’t. Yet still, a part of her is.. disappointed?

As soon as the feeling settles in her stomach, the smoke rolling off the candles begins to move oddly. It coils, collects. Forming something above the design she's made in the hardwood floor. The smoke thickens. Until it is no longer light grey strands floating upwards. It becomes something heavier, darker. It takes the form of.. something.  Not a face, but similar. The structure of it is almost understandable. It moves. Blinking?  She squints at it, trying to understand the impossible imagery.

It opens what she can only vaguely call a mouth. When it moves, words fill the room. They do not make a sound, but rest heavy in her head regardless. As if she is remembering something that was said rather than really hearing anything at all.

"You have forgotten the offering."

She blinks. Looks, slowly, down. Then over. To the table against the wall. The silver letter opener there seems to almost glow with light from the fireplace.

Ah. Yes. ‘The offering’..

She feels all at once aware of what she is doing, and yet not, when she moves over. Bare feet pad against the hardwood softly. She's small. Petite. Short for her age, light but not weak. Among the hobbies she's picked up for boredom, demon-summoning is only one minor 'interest'. Others- horseback riding, gymnastics, have left her with a small but trained figure. Yet for all the reasons why she should be keenly aware of the movements of her own body, somehow in those moments she feels disconnected from herself.

She plucks up the letter opener. Turns back to the circle where the face waits.

A prick at her finger. It stings. She doesn't like the pain. Winces just slightly as the drop of blood wells and runs down, dribbling off her finger. It isn't audible when it hits the floor, but somehow still she can almost feel it.

The smoke disperses. She thinks it's over.  The feeling of foggy impulse in her head lifts. Was that it? Some sort of wish-fulfillment, fever dream? A daydream gone awry in her desperation to not be so bored by a failed attempt at.. what? At magic? Hah. Perhaps she needs to lay down. Magic isn't re-

There is a boom.

She isn't wholly aware of it, at first.

She is aware of things tilting. And then she understands only on the way down that it is because she is falling. Everything goes slowly. Surreal and hard to process.

Glass catches firelight as it sprays around. Curtains fly in strange directions. Books scatter off the bookcases. She tips backwards, elbows hitting the floor first, then hip, then head and legs with the force. 

She lays on her back. Pulls arms up sluggishly to guard her face. But the glass doesn't seem to scatter near her, somehow. Once the windows have blown out and the books flutter and skitter everywhere, she is left to lie still. She stares at the ceiling. Blinks, disoriented.  What just happened? ..Why?  There is a sound of.. something. She can't understand it right away.  Footsteps, bare, over the hardwood. Over the glass. Crunching as if hard boots were grinding the mess to dust. It comes ever closer. Her head lulls to the side, but nothing is there. When the noise stops, she wonders if her hearing is simply ruined from the.. explosion?

Then the words come. The thoughts invading, memories that aren't memories.

It speaks and while there is no sound, she hears it.

"What desire is it you have summoned me for? Be quick about it."

Desire..? Summoned..

Oh. _Oh no_.

She blinks. Needs time to try to wrap her head around what is happening. A noise of a terse sigh comes to mind.

"I.." She starts, audibly disoriented. "This isn't.." possible.

All is quiet. Still. The thing, whatever and wherever it is exactly, doesn't respond.

Ever so slowly, she moves to try to sit up. To look around. The library is a mess. The candles are all extinguished, leaving the fireplace only dimly lighting the room. The proper lights are blown out as well as the windows. She realizes belatedly that while the room is coated in glass and books, there is a perfect circle all around her clear of any dangerous debris.  The salt circle is broken. She stares at it. Turns slowly to the grimoire in the floor. The texts said the circle bound the summoned creature. Kept it caged and unable to do harm until it was released. So, if the circle was broken..

A hand extends. She looks at it, understanding slowly it is an offer for help to her feet. It takes her a few extra seconds to fully understand that the hand belongs to.. it. The thing. The summoned thing. Demon? No, that's stupid. Demons aren't real. And yet..  She looks up at it. It towers over her. Black on black on black, with no discernible figure beyond looming and massive. It's broad-shouldered. Sort of. If the wide mass of its inky body can be considered as having shoulders. As is, she doesn't fully think about it- the thing extends its hand and she takes it. She doesn't realize what she's done. Doesn't understand that by accepting its help she's opened up a debt with the being.

It helps her to her feet. They stand in the eye of the storm of glass and scattered books. She doesn't have the capacity to stare around the room anymore. Her gaze is locked on the summoned thing. Its lack of form and yet undeniably physical presence just before her. While she's small on a normal scale, the thing is still giant compared to average. Thus, next to her tinier frame, it's laughably big. Twice her height almost, definitely twice her thickness.

It doesn't move for a time. Doesn't do what weird equivalent to speaking it seems capable of. She just stares. Wide eyes trail down, then back up. It's a living shadow, no lines or shades to it beyond the suggestion of an outline. Even with it feet in front of her, she can't make it out as anything but an absence of space.

"Tell me," it sighs. She startles a touch, blinking rapidly rather than jumping. She's never been the type to startle easy. But this.. Well, this breaks a lot of normal rules.

"What desire is it you have summoned me for?" It sounds impatient. Which makes it all the worse when she hesitates, unsure of what to say. To be totally honest, she doesn't have anything at all in mind. Her family is financially lavish, her home is stable. She doesn't want more money, or power, or social grace. (While she does lack a bit in latter area, it's not precisely the sort of thing she has want to improve- as if her calmly regarding a demon wasn't evidence enough of that fact.)

After a moment, she just hums. Unsure, but contemplating.

"I suppose I don't have one." She finally mutters, more thoughtful than anything. She isn't scared. Even with the thing impossible in nature- even with her library destroyed and binding circle broken -if it wanted to hurt her, it could have. She assumes. But it didn't. So she lacks proper fear. All it seems to want is a purpose. One she woefully lacks for it in the moment.  It doesn't like that. Grunts in a way that bleeds into a dark growl. She just continues to stare. Curious. For someone so bored as to even attempt such a strange thing, this proves amusing. Interesting. She hasn't felt this occupied by anything in a long time. 

"Is there nothing you would have me do for you?" It prods further. Desperate?

She looks around. At the mess of her library. Shrugs.

"Cleaning this mess up would be nice of you." She sounds noncommittal.

She also has no idea what she's getting into, and the creature recognizes that fact.

It moves. Snaps its fingers. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, all is well.  The windows are how they were. The books all back in place. The floor cleared of glass and the overhead lights back intact. Shut off though, still leaving the room dim save for the lowly crackling fireplace.  "Beyond chores." It realizes by now she tends to respond more than press in conversation. So it acts first, speaks first. Steps closer to eliminate the very small gap between them. It is trying to intimidate her. It doesn't work. She just keeps looking up at it, curious and calm.

"One does not summon a demon for chores." It clarifies harshly.

She shrugs. "I don't see why not. You did a good job of it."

Suddenly, it has a mouth. It snarls, black form interrupted by white, sharp teeth. It snaps them together and growls angrily. She still doesn't flinch. Most girls of her stature were sobbing messes by then, in it's experience.  It glares at her. Scrapes attention from the top of her head to her feet.  Hair messed from the chaos of his arrival. An oversized shirt that hangs off one shoulder and down just below her knees. On top of her round face, she looks like an ill-dressed doll. And yet for all the delicacy in her features, she stands before him entirely unconcerned for his inhuman nature.

She's quiet. He forces himself to grind words out.

"Give me your desire or I will take my leave without it."

At that, finally, she reacts. Purses lips. Looks.. frustrated? She's so strange, even he can barely understand her despite his eons of experience granting mortal wants.  "I don't have one. There's nothing I need so badly to ask a demon for it."

It's his turn to mutely stare. Not so much curious as just surprised.

She shrugs again, passive and casual.  "If I want money, I can go out and earn it. If I want power, I can work at it and get it. I'm capable enough. I don't need to make some fanciful wish for anything."

Things are quiet for a moment more. Slowly features ebb onto his face. 

Dark brows knit together in frustrated confusion. Lips purse into a flat line over his sharp teeth. Eyes narrow, indigo irises barely visible against the black of his body. He stares at her. It is slowly more and more clear that he is in fact male. A broad set to his shoulders becomes apparent. A muscle tone across his chest, arms. His shape solidifies more and more as they stand still, regarding each other.

He is a demon. She is a little girl. 

(Nineteen years old, he can tell in the same way he can tell the year is two-thousand and twenty. But against his age she is young, and her stature leaves her barely reaching his ribcage. So she is, in every sense, a _little_ _girl_ to him.)

  
  


"Then why this?" He motions back behind them some, to the broken circle. Salt and candle wax littering the floor by now. It smells strange. Reminds him of centuries past. 

She doesn't even glance back to where he motions. Her eyes are locked on him. Fascinated, even though her expression is steady and placid.

"Bored." She says it flatly. Simply. 

  
  


He stares at her for a moment. Blinks.

Bored.. It would almost be laughable. If he didn't understand exactly that sort of feeling. Contrary to popular belief, roaming alternate space and waiting for a human to beckon him was not very occupying. So to do something so reckless in the name of boredom.. He sighs. Being able to understand a human's motivation for once was a strange thing indeed.

"Regardless.." He tries to reorder his thoughts. He shakes his head just a little. There is hair, then. Short. Not even enough to get into his eyes. But he can tell it's there, same as he can tell defining features of a square jawline and ears are forming. The more she focuses on him, the more he solidifies. The exact nature of him is based on the summoner. On their preferences. Hers have taken an awfully long time to settle in. He tries not to wonder why that could be.

"You have accepted my service. If you don't wish to make a binding pact, payment is still in order." Then, he crosses his arms. He won't be swayed from this fact.

She quirks one brow at him. Clearly, she doesn't understand any of the situation she's caused.  "I can't imagine you have much use for money or material things. So what exactly should I pay you in?" The way she addresses the issue so calmly almost amuses him. Still, her flagrant ignorance is more than mildly insulting.

He unfurls his arms. Raises one, grasping swiftly at her face. Their size difference is apparent, then. While he could eclipse most of her face with his hand, he settles just for curling loose fingers around her chin. Holding her still, not that he needed to, as he looks down into her eyes.  " _Flesh_." He lets the word hang heavy between them.

There is a flicker of something in her. While her expression doesn't change, he can hear the way her pulse quickens. He can feel it in the air when her heart skips. Afraid? Excited? The line between the two is often thin- so now, he can't tell which it is. He just knows that she doesn't draw back. Doesn't try to wrest his touch from her, doesn't look disgusted.

"An eye, then? An arm? I'd like to think I don't own you much, since I barely pay my maid so highly for the same work." She's cool. Almost too much so. There's an edge to her tone, a mild sharpness. Hiding fear behind cold retort? He finds it cute. It's a habit of the young and stupid, and from someone so strange he finds it endearing. Enough to not take her up on the offer of some core piece of her body. (That, in fact, _would_ be overpaying him.)

"Don't be so morbid." The words roll out like an almost-laugh in her face. He dips his head down. Raises her chin in his hand. When he kisses her, she's not sure what to make of it.  All at once, he's burning hot and freezing cold. Uncomfortably heated against her skin, yet jarringly cool. It's impossible and otherworldly to a degree that at first she isn't sure what to do. But the moment something distinctly wet brushes her lower lip, she jerks away on instinct. It isn't something she entirely means to do. But it's ingrained, the moment his tongue touches her. She jerks back. Slaps him hard across the face. It does no real damage. She doubts it even stings. But it's enough to have him momentarily letting go, drawing away.

And then he laughs. The sound booms through the library, shaking down into her bones. She just stares at him, wide-eyed and startled. Which makes him laugh more, until he's rocking back on his heels and pressing one hand to his stomach.  Seeing her, someone thus far so collected and aloof, looking like a bewildered child is too much.  "Your face!" He finally shouts. Ah, when was the last time he laughed this hard?  "That suits you much better!"

She doesn't like that. Immediately her small features compress and sour into a glare, a grimace. She's pouting at him and he finds himself immediately torn between wanting to laugh more and.. something else. The impulse of else wins. Because he hasn't forgotten- she still owes him for his services.  Before his laughter is done humming in the air, he's moving closer again. Regaining the lost space and pressing into her. She's already reaching up though, and grabs his wrist before he can grab at her chin again. She glares up at him. Stubborn.

"You ask before you kiss people." She huffs, with a fire in her he hasn't met in centuries. He's met stubborn people before. Haughty people. But none have worn it the way she does. She isn't emptily prideful, or simply angry. There is a strange conviction about her. A level-headed fierceness that he finds himself hungry for. If ever there was a soul to pine after..

He doesn't overpower her even though he could. She's too much, to want to ruin it with force. So he smiles. Dark eyes glittering in the firelight. Lips part. He flashes sharp teeth at her. She doesn't budge an inch under his gaze, doesn't falter. Just keeps her stubborn eyes locked on him. He's charmed by it.

"You owe me payment." His tone drawls out smooth, low.

She's unwaveringly strong, if not in stature than spirit.  "And I'm the one to choose it." If she knows that for a fact or is just determined to break any present rules, he can't tell. But she isn't wrong. It's her summoning. She can choose what to give him, as long as she gives _something_.

"You'd sooner give me an eye than a kiss?" He taunts. His amusement is clear in his tone.

Her eyes narrow on him.  "You would take only a kiss for your work?"  There is a challenge in her tone that almost seems silly until he grins wider. Laughs just a little.  "No." He admits. She sighs, unsurprised.  She lets him go. Crosses her arms. He lets his hand drop to his side and stares down at her.

"How much?" She eventually mutters. Surprisingly low in tone, after all her confident words. He lavishes it, all the more fascinated by her apparent fluster.  She looks down, away. Stares at the floor as he grins widely.

"You would let me choose?" He hums.

"I'm asking how much would render us equal." She clarifies sharply, snapping eyes up to his face. He steadily keeps attention on her, giving it a few moments of quiet to really enjoy the feint shade of red in her face.  "Depends." It's his turn to shrug casually. "Have you given skin before?"

She stares at him. Not remotely amused.  "Are you asking if I've summoned a demon before, or slept with someone?"

When he laughs, it's a little more gentle than any time before.  "I can tell you've never summoned before." His tone is fond, despite the barb.  "I mean to ask if you're a virgin."

At that, she bristles. Huffs, loudly, then turns away. He watches with brows raised in amusement as she stalks away, promptly kneeling to start prying candles off the floor. He doesn't stop her. Now that he's here and free of the circle, there isn't anything she can do to be rid of him save payment or an exorcism.

"I should take that as a.. yes?" He pries, watching her stand to cart a handful of the candles over to a table. She sets them down, rather roughly, then settles her hands on the edge of it. She hunches over slightly. He can still tell by the sound of her heart that she's embarrassed. Just barely, he can make out a brighter red along her ears.

"So what if I am? What does this mean in terms of payment?" She all but snaps.

He's eating it up. The defensive attitude out of her is almost too enjoyable. As fascinating as her calm nature is, seeing her riled is all the better because of it.

He walks over. Slowly. Audibly. She knows he's coming and doesn't stop him. 

He comes up behind her. Presses into her fragile-feeling body. She's toned, he can tell. But humans will always feel like glass and paper against him. He's mindful of that, delicate when he raises both hands to drag fingertips up her arms. Goosebumps follow the trail. She shudders. He pretends not to notice.  "If you are," he leans down, into her ear. "Then that I can take for payment."

It is a terrible overprice for what all he's done. Help off the floor, fixing of a room. So much could be paid for in a few drops of blood more than she used to summon him initially. But he is a demon. He is greedy. And she is woefully uneducated for this. So he milks it for all he can. Starts at the highest possible price, hopeful.

She exhales. The breath shivers out of her. She swallows, thickly.  She's never been very interested in other people. They've always felt boring. She's smart. Very much so. Compared to that, other people.. She's never had a crush. Never had a want to be with another person in her life. Certainly not romantically. So this, now.. She isn't sure what to make of it. To surrender that first experience to a _demon_ , of all things..

Maybe it's because a part of her still thinks it's a fever dream. Maybe it's that strange curiosity that hasn't left since he first appeared. Whatever the reason, she decides. There is brief hesitation. Long enough to think about reconsidering. And then-

"Alright."  She nods. Grips the edge of the table to keep her hands from shaking nervously.  "That payment, and then we're even."

He can feel something inside him coil tight and hot at her acceptance of the terms. Excitement, raw and dark. He hasn't been this eager about a human in a long time. And now that the words are out there between them, there is no going back.  He strokes thumbs against her arms. Again, reminded of how fragile humans are. Some of his kind take a specific pleasure in destroying them because of that delicate nature. Sometimes, he does too. But not now. No, for now she is special. Different in a way he wants to preserve.  He doesn't say anything. There isn't much appropriate to say. He just trails his hands down from her shoulders to her arms, down to her hands. He laces fingers through hers briefly. Encouraging her grip on the table. She follows his lead. Doesn't turn around. Doesn't move. 

She has every chance to call him off. If nothing else than to tell him to stop any given touch or movement. But she's quiet. He's mindful of her pulse, her breathing. Senses nothing but nervousness and a certain thrumming excitement. So he moves, carefully pulling hands back up her arms, then down her sides. Lower and lower until he's pulling the ends of her large shirt up. Beneath it, a pair of underwear is exposed against pale skin.  He slips his hands under her shirt.  She flinches just slightly. Like the kiss, his touch is hot-cold in impossible and breath-taking ways. She tries not to but fails, gasping just slightly as he slides hands up to her ribs, then down to her hips. His thumbs hook the sides of her panties and pull. 

It's a strange feeling, to be exposed. Especially by something that serves as relative stranger. Yet, for that disconnection, she almost feels safer. There is no relationship here to risk ruining. No emotions to delicately handle. This is a deal. This is purely business. Something about that view makes it easier for her to relax against the burning-cold touch of his hands steadily pulling her underwear down off her hips.  He drags lower until she's exposed. Though, in the moment, all he can see is the curve of her ass. She's small but hardly flat. A delicate sort of curvature he hadn't expected under her clothes. He smiles. Sighs, not meaning for the breath to skirt the back of her neck and make her shudder. The reaction is hardly displeasing, though. After working her underwear down her thighs, he kneels. 

She doesn't know what to expect. Isn't sure where he's going with anything. The basics of sex she understands. She's a virgin, but that doesn't make her _ignorant_. Still, when he lowers to knees behind her she barely understands it. Just as she's about to look back, to ask what on earth he thinks he's doing, his hands move. She chokes briefly on a tight gasp as his hands press against both sides of her ass. Thumbs hook around, helping him pull her open. Exposed further.

Her face burns. This.. this is embarrassing. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat. Suddenly the heat in his hands is hard to notice. Her whole body feels hot, burning. She doesn't want to think about what he's doing anymore. Doesn't want to ask anything. She could call it off, but while flustering it isn't.. it isn't _bad_. She's curious. Not enough to admit it. But enough to be still and just barely rock her hips back as he pulls her apart further.

Then, there is something hot-cold. Not his hands. Something slick, something familiar from their kiss. His tongue traces up the skin of her thigh. Teasing. She shivers. Whines without meaning to. For a moment she almost raises a hand to cover her mouth, but instead her grip stays firm on the table. Her knees shake as he trails up slowly, tracing a hot-cold path up her leg. Further and further until she finally understands what he means to do.

In the same moment she realizes, he's reached the heated folds of her exposed sex. There's no time to feel anything but a second of embarrassment, and then shock. Pleasure floods a moment after as his tongue presses against her. At first, it just feels cold. Enough to earn a soft whimper out of her. But when he drags upwards, pressing against the length of her slit, the heat mounts. She doesn't think. She moans. Just barely, his grip on her tightens.

He can tell she wasn't lying. She's as much a virgin as one can get, untouched and over sensitive. He knows the moment he dances his tongue over her clit and she shakes all over. Moans pour out of her readily, tender and shuddering. He is, as ever, delicate. Careful. Balancing pleasure to a point of never becoming too much. He wants this to be gradual. Precise. He wants to fully enjoy this deal. So he takes his time, testing pressure and speed against her. She's sweet, and every drag of his tongue leaves her more and more wet. Less from his mouth with every touch.

When he finally buries his face into her, she's a mess. Shuddering, gone from grasping at the table to laying over it. Her toes curl against the floor, her muscles shake. She can feel him pressing into her and just that small intrusion is ecstatic. She's never felt anything close before. Never bothered personally experimenting. It had never seemed interesting, never seemed worth the thought. Development had been a strange process, largely one she tried to ignore in life. So this, now.. She was late to experience the exact feel of real pleasure.

Just when it feels like there is nothing better he can do than to bury his writhing tongue inside her, something.. changes. Longer. Thicker. The squirming organ presses deeper, rubbing against her insides. She moans, gasps. Making a sound closer to a sharp cry of surprise than anything. There is no breath with which to ask, though. In a way, she almost doesn't need to. A part of her feels like perhaps she knows. He was a demon.. not bound to the concept of human physiology. His tongue presses further into her, coiling and stroking her soft inner walls.  It is inevitable, then, that he finds what he is looking for. A careful brush leaves her jolting, sharply inhaling. He knows, then. He presses. She cries out, digging nails into the table. For a few seconds, he teases the sensitive coil of nerves inside her. Brushing and pushing against her expertly.

Everything keeps growing hotter. Until she feels her blood boiling, heart racing to a point of breathlessness. Every inch of her body is electric, swallowed more and more by something she can't describe.

He keeps going, not aiming to tease for once. He pushes and curls inside her, measuring the way her breathing hitches. Until, inevitably, a shock of tension runs through her body. Nails dig deep into the table. A sharp inhale melts into a loud, quivering cry. Even then, he doesn't stop. 

Everything washes into an indecipherable mess. Deaf, blind, rendered unaware of her own loud moaning. She cries out, shaking with the force of it as she caves hard into her first orgasm. The demon continues inside her, fucking every second of powerful release from her with his tongue. When she begins to dip down into numbness, he finally withdraws.

She pants heavy and weak as he stands. Scraping the back of his hand against his mouth, he grins down at her body. Her only movement is a ragged heaving of breaths, soaking in afterglow. He feels.. proud. More than that, he feels something close to comfortable. The library, once heavy with the scents of candle wax and old paper, is now laden with sex and an air still ringing with ecstatic moans.

For a minute, he is still. Letting the girl bask in the aftershocks of orgasm and warmth of a first experience. But, he does not leave. No, he has a deal to fill. Virginity was a very easy to argue thing. Perhaps, on a medical scale, one could argue he'd gotten what they'd agreed to. But he was a demon, and she hadn't specified. So he was out for all he could take, and that included deciding his own definition of what she'd agreed to offer him.

Thus, it wasn't over until he was inside of her. At the least.

For all his impatient hunger, he still knew how to wait. He'd meant what he had decided before. She was not to be destroyed and broken apart by this. He wanted delicacy in his work, to preserve that strange personality of hers. Sentimentality was an odd thing to call it, but perhaps the term wasn't wrong. A brand of possessiveness, perhaps. Either way, he gave her time. Coaxed her slow, until she seemed to have caught her breath.

By then, she is languid but aware of it when he touches her. Burning-cold palms running down her legs, up her sides. Shedding her clothes entirely. If there was shame left to be had, she couldn't feel it anymore. Not after that. Such wild sensation still fresh in her mind, she welcomes any process that promises more of it. Thus, when the demon coaxes her over onto her back on the table, she doesn't protest. She rolls lazily, smiling eagerly up at him. His grin is darker, more hungry. She does not find it unpleasant.

Since her last look at him, he seemed different. Onyx-skinned, still, but not without detail. The firelight caught the planes of his thick body, the rolls of powerful muscle from head to hips finding home between hers. She doesn't even think about it, when he presses closer there. Her legs part, weakly wrapping around him. He is considerate- he holds her legs up around him securely, grinning down at the fully exposed lines of her body. One might complain there was more to be desired of her chest- but he didn't. He looked pleased with exactly what he saw. His appreciate was one more carnal, and simultaneously of parts of her beyond simple flesh. Her pride, her certainty, her honesty. He wanted it all, and then he wanted more. But for now, he would make do with just what he'd been promised.

He rocks his hips forward. Something stiff slides against her, the same hot-cold as his hands. She looks down. Stares at the thick onyx-skinned length between her legs. When he moves, his cock rubs against her slick entrance. She shivers, just slightly. Her heart skips a beat when his head just barely grazes against her clit.

"This can be however you'd like." His voice was thick with something, low and rumbling. She glances at him then down, to where he moves to stroke himself slowly. This..? Oh. She blinks for a moment, unsure how to react. Then, somewhat languid, she laughs.  "You say that like I know enough to have preference." She hums. She sounds, of all the things, gentle. Pleased, still clearly riding the pleasure of the first orgasm out to some minor degree. The demon mirrors her tone with a hum like soft thunder. Carefully, he moves to intentionally slip the head of his rigid cock against her entrance. It is automatic, when she whines just slightly. Wanting more than the careful tease.

"Oh, you clearly know plenty." He muses softly. "My form is dictated entirely by your desire. How you wish me to appear, so I am." His words are informative but largely lost with the way he rocks his hips forward again, teasing more. Sliding himself just barely against her wet opening. Up and down, teasing her clit intentionally. She twitches, shivering. After a whining moan, she bites at her bottom lip. Something about that makes him smile to see.

"So I-" she pauses, a small gasp as her back rises off the table just slightly.  "I could imagine you as anything, and you would change accordingly?" She half-laughs the words. Obviously thinking something less in terms of sex and more ridiculousness. But the demon hums affirmative, pressing just a half inch into her before pulling out. Her whole body rolls into a tense shiver as a result.

Mostly, if he was being honest, he was worried about size being an issue. Clearly, the girl had some.. _expectant_ tastes. But, he wasn't one to question her further. If this was what she wanted, then so be it. If she changed her mind during, things would adjust accordingly.  So he waits, rubbing against her only a few moments more. Until finally her patience snaps.

"Ah- _please_.." The words come out tight, half-whined and half-moaned.  "Put it in already.."

The demon makes a noise. Amused, a mocking little hum.  "Put what in?" He watches her, eyes narrowing. Watching the way her head presses down into the table and her back arches more. Her hands stay down at her sides, nails digging into the wood.

" _Your cock_." She growls. No shame in the area of words, it seemed. Somehow, for all her blushing, that fact surprises him. So he presses for more, sliding in just barely again and resting there. Before she can buck against him, one powerful hand comes over her hip, keeping her down as he teases her slick entrance further.

"What about my cock?" He murmurs lowly.

Clearly, she had a demon's patience. Teeth grit. She whines, trying and failing to roll her hips and coax him further inside. Instead he keeps her still, rubbing up and down her slit slowly. When the noise at the back of her throat builds into something close to a growl, he harshly drags the head of his dick against her clit again.

" _Shove your thick cock in me and fuck me, you ass._ " She demands, abruptly.

It takes him more composure than he'd admit, to not erupt into laughter.

She is charming, the way any tiny lady belting out unashamed cursing is. He can't help himself any more. As fun as teasing her is, he can't bear it himself for much longer. Still keeping her still with one hand, he finally lets himself go and edges forward, sliding inside. It was easy, at first. Until the real tension of her caught around him.

She whines, he groans. It is indescribable- the way he feels all at once on fire and freezing cold. Pressing ice and heat into her all at once. The sheer thickness is another thing altogether, filling and stretching to a point of almost-pain. But just before she can beg him to stop, he abates. Understanding, somehow, when to wait. 

His consideration surprises her. She gasps, breathing rough as he goes still. Not even a few inches inside, and she has to writhe against him. He keeps a careful grip on her hips, letting her squirm against the table without making it worse. The writhing helps. In time, she eases. Enough for him to press another inch inside, sliding deeper before again pausing. The noise she makes is low and overwhelmed. The process goes on, patient and near dizzying. When he finally hilts inside her entirely, it feels extraordinary. He tilts his head back, groaning loudly. She shivers, feeling him filling her up entirely inside. He is massive, more than she could have understood from looks. Every time his heart beats his cock twitches, pulsing heavily inside her. The strange hot-blooded connection leaves her feeling familiar with him in a way beyond words. Nearly beyond comprehension. He was something she'd never known to want, and the moment he carefully begins to pull out she learns how to miss someone.

He draws out only a few inches, before sliding back in.  Again, the sensation rises to almost-pain before leveling out into a sort of teasing tension. He hilts again, exhaling rough and hot. She wraps both trembling legs around him tight, curling as if to invite him further inside. His grip on her hips tightens and loosens slowly, almost in time to the pulsing of his cock inside her.  She bites her lip. Thinking.. _wondering_ , how much she could take. This was so much, nearly too much. But she was a stubborn soul. Determined. And just as soon as the thought occurs, she feels.. pressure. A harder pulse through him, a stretching inside her. It hurts, but only slightly. Not enough to make her regret the curiosity.

He gasps, leaning over her on the table. For just a moment, he seems caught off guard. His arrogant smile falters. He looks taken away by something, some sensation. And so easily as she sees that look on his face, the pain seems inconsequential at best.  She reaches without thinking, and before her hands can even touch his hair, a pair of thick horns curl out from his head. Midnight black, like his skin. Thick and sturdy as she grabs onto him, pulling his head down closer to her own.

When she speaks, it is hot whispers in his face. She looks him in the eyes, smiling.  "Fuck me. _Hard_."  
Her grip loosens on his horns. His hands grasp with a bruising force at her hips. She knows what she wants. He knows, too. He pulls out slow at first, then quicker. Almost entirely until she shivers with a terrible emptiness. Then, rough, he slams back into her.  It hurts. He is big. Too big, almost, for such a motion. And compared to the gentleness before it is nearly painful. She cries out. A shout that bleeds into a desperate moan. He doesn't move again. He waits, sensing her adjusting. Not wanting to actually hurt her. She isn't so prideful as to not take the kindness. A moment or two, a few dizzy breaths. She acclimates to the consequence of her pride, and then unrepentant says,  " _More_ ".

He pulls out again. Slams back inside her entirely, sinking in to the base. She cries out again, loud. This time, there is less pain. More sheer pleasure. When she growls out a darkly pleased noise and bites her lip, he withdraws once more. This time when he pushes back inside in one harsh motion, he doesn't pause before repeating it. She doesn't object. The rough pace then turns quick.

In those moments when he starts to fuck her hard over the table, her mind shoots between two points. One, of total disoriented pleasure. Another, almost bitter, wonders why she'd never done this before. It was too much, in a terribly wonderful way. The way too much rich food was unpleasantly good. Decadent, consuming. She looses herself in the feeling, shouting and moaning incoherently. Where once there might have been directions- more, harder, faster -soon there are just sounds. Cries. Ecstasy and raw pleasure pouring out of her in breathless waves as the demon pumps in and out of her. Shameful noises fill the otherwise quiet library, wet skin-on-skin almost overpowering the noise of the table jerking and slamming into the wall with every sharp thrust and drag.

At some point, she finds her hands around his horns again. Pulling on him as he slams one hand into the table, the other locked on her hip. If it hurt, she couldn't feel it. There was only the raw bliss of the demon fucking her without restraint. At every moment she finds her body adjusting to him, she thought again of how much more she could take. More, thicker, constantly leaving her absolutely full with his pulsing cock. No relief from the overwhelming pressure, no escape from the feeling of him always being nearly too much to bear.

Which one of them drew close first was unknowable. At some moment, her back arches high off the table. His hand at her hip sinks nails in roughly, pricking skin. She pulls his horns down rough until his mouth falls to her chest, running a hot-cold tongue against one of her nipples. Just like that, with the flick of a tongue and another hard thrust deep inside her, she cums. Rolling waves of tension spasming her around him, squeezing every inch of his massive cock. The hot feel of her orgasm combined with the uncontrolled moans pouring from her are finally all he can take. He presses himself inside until she's taken every inch, and as her body shivers and squeezes his cock vice tight, he cums. With her desire leaving him so full inside her, the sudden rush of cum is overwhelming.  She cries out sharply, jolting hard as he pumps every drop deep into her. His mouth refuses to release her sensitive chest, swirling his tongue over the raised nipple between his lips. She all but screams, writhing in his hands as he fills her nearly unbearably full. 

When they are both done, only then do hands start to loosen.

Her hold on his horns eases. His mouth releases her skin, an audible pop surrendering suck-bruised flesh. His unintentional vice grip on her hip eases and her back settles against the table once more. Her legs around him slowly started to untangle.  He stares down at her, hazy with a deep sense of satisfaction. She pants, head lulled to the side and eyes shut. Plastered with a loose sheen of sweat the firelight caught brilliantly. Maybe, for just a moment, she was beautiful to him. For a human.

He gives it a minute more before finally shifting, pulling out. She whimpers, squirming briefly as his thick length slides free. He has no clothes to fetch, no moral need to clean himself up. He stands proud in the center of the mess of them both, watching the way she heaves breath and deliriously tries to open her eyes.  Now, officially, his debt was paid. And she seems to slowly realize that as she blinks at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what to say. For once, she seemed to take the verbal initiative while he hesitated uncharacteristically.

"You know.." She needed a moment to breathe in order to talk at all.  "I wouldn't mind.. an unusual sort of deal.."

He quirked a brow. As curious as he was unexpectedly.. _hopeful?_

She grins wearily, turning her attention to him as best she can without sitting up. " You stay. Until I can think of something I want enough to make a proper deal for."

She looks so confident despite the clear exhaustion. He can't help it. He laughs. The sound of it betrayed his own sense of tire. Truly, he was well-fed. As much a demon like him could be. But his form was drained, and without a solid anchor..  Ah, but that was what she was offering, wasn't it?  A deal for a deal. Hah. Never, in all his years, had he heard of such a thing. He shakes his head. Smiles. She is.. interesting. And perhaps the both of them had been too bored for too long.

"Deal." He rumbles low, full of power and pleasure.

She smiles. Shut her eyes. Exhausted, but still full of life enough to not let him get the last word in. She was, after all, his summoner now.

  
  


"Deal." She seals it proudly.


End file.
